Chapter 14 (post two)

Pre-read note: I find that this chapter is quite a jump from the last, and through editing I plan on changing that. The is supposed to be cheesy romantic, but if it doesn't make sense, or makes you want to vomit, let me know. Thanks. :)

Chapter fourteen, section two:

My classes passed slowly. I noticed Cara, Chantel and Amy all ignored me. I kept trying to tell myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I kept feeling like it wasn’t true. I had smiled, I had encouraged it.

I tried to catch up with some other people, but most of the people I usually hung out with were Amy’s friends, and they had a million excuses not to talk to me.

I walked back to the residence by myself. The walls seemed extra blank, the floor extra cold. I changed out of my uniform and into my sweats, and then headed to the roof top. The sky was clouding over and threatening rain, but I didn’t mind. The sun would have just been mocking me anyways.

The space on the roof was empty, but comforting. I sat on some metal box that was only a few feet high, facing the school grounds below. There was something about sitting by myself looking down on everyone else that gave me a sense of space, as well as a bit of a thrill. No one knew where I was, no one could find me. I’d brought my cell outside this time, though, in case Jake called, so I wouldn’t miss it like the other day.

I fought the urge to go back downstairs and demand to talk to Amy, or anyone for that matter. It wouldn’t make a difference anyways. Amy was still too angry to see reason, and her loyal friends would stick by her.

I now understood what it was like to be on the other side of the popular group. Before, I had always just been in the middle somewhere, never friends with them nor disliked by them. I knew their names, and maybe they knew mine too, but I didn’t talk to them unless I had to. Here, I had been on the inside for the first time, and I could now see its downfalls. Popularity is a tough, fragile thing. Only the top people have the least bit of stability, and that was only if they had people who would be on their side whatever may come.

My phone rang then, while I was watching people and psychoanalysing teenage popularity. I answered it, my fingers crossed hoping it was Jake; my toes crossed hoping it was Amy.

“Hello?”

“Hey, New Wings, it’s Jake.”

My face instantly lit into a smile. “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good. I was just calling because I realized I never took you to buy shampoo or soap. I meant to take you the other day, but I couldn’t get a hold of you.”

“Oh! I’m sorry about that; I didn’t have my phone on me. But I when I went shopping with some friends the other day, I got some.”

“Oh, good! I’m glad you’re making friends already, too.”

“Oh, yeah,” I lied. “There are so many nice people here.” He didn’t need to know that no one was currently talking to me, he seemed too happy.

“Does that mean you are busy today?”

“I’m free, actually.”

He said he’d drop by, and I told him I was on the roof.  I hung up, my mood suddenly lighter.

When Jake arrived, I slid over and made space for him beside me. I could feel the warmth of his body as our hips touched, and although there was more than enough room for me to slide down further, I didn’t. He didn’t seem to mind.

We talked about nothing, but that nothing was what made my day. I couldn’t feel sad when I was sitting beside him, there was no possible way. He had a spark in his eyes and a catching smile that you couldn’t ignore. When he was happy, you were too.

We discussed friends, school, life. He answered my questions.

“Why is this world without art?” “They don’t think it is necessary, and it’s too costly to produce too much of too many products.”

“Why do they not have more colours in different products?” “Products can be more easily made and distributed if they only come in limited colours, and most of the time black, gray or white are the more versatile and easy colours to make a product.”

“Why is this society so concerned with money and profit?” The response came sarcastically, “What society isn’t?”

As I thought about this, we sat in silence. By now the sun was getting low in the sky.

“We are going to miss the sunset at the beach.” I pointed out.

“I don’t mind,” he said and then he mumbled something under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Just that, it doesn’t really matter where I see it,” slowly came his answer, “It’s just, nice, you know, to see it with someone.”

I watched his face, but it was unmoving. His eyes were set on the distance, his grin crooked, and even when he turned and caught my eye, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He didn’t turn away, he just kept watching me. I smiled with embarrassment.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking.”

He looked out over the grounds again. There was no one around; everyone must have been in the cafeteria eating dinner by now. The sun kept sinking lower, the clouds sitting on top.

“I can’t tell what you’re thinking, either,” he said.

I watched the light dance around the sky, a watercolour painting, with thick lines defining the clouds and the water washing them all together, and said, “I wonder if the clouds wish they could sink with the sun, travel to the other side of the earth.”

I realized how strange this sounded out loud, and I laughed. He joined in, but said, “If you were the sun, and I was the clouds, I would follow.”

This threw me aback. I think it did for him too, as though the words had just fallen out, because his eyes set back on the sun and his face returned to its unreadable state.

I whispered slowly, “If I was the sun, and you were the clouds, I don’t think I would set.”

He didn’t respond, he didn’t even look at me, but I suddenly felt his hand wrap around mine. I placed my head carefully on his shoulder, and when he didn’t protest, we watched the world sink in pinks and reds, our bodies intertwined.